“Oh my God! Stop eating that!”
“Your trail mix tastes funny,” Trevor said with a cringe.
“That wasn’t trail mix, you bastard! That was potpourri!”
“Well, that explains a lot,” he said, giving her a sheepish smile as he returned the large wooden bowl back to the side table. She didn’t need to look to know that he’d already eaten half the bowl of potpourri. She didn’t even bother asking him what the hell was wrong with him since she knew the answer.
The man was a Bradford.
“Sorry,” he mumbled.
“You should be!” Zoe snapped. “You scared the hell out of me and now I’m about to give birth to two Bradfords out in the middle of nowhere with no drugs! Do you have any idea how big a Bradford head is? Huh? Do you?”
“But I'd take you because you're the best part of my day, Rory. Always have been and always will be.”
“Tell me that you didn’t break the ban, Rory. Tell me that there aren’t two Bradfords beating the shit out of each other over the last slice of cheese in my kitchen.”
“Connor; "Push me and you might just find yourself locked in the trunk of a car and on a ferry headed off to Nova Scotia. . .Again" he said Softly loving the way she practically shook with rage against him.
"I knew that was you, you bastard" She snarled, looking torn between going for his nipples again or just out right killing him.
"You deserved it", he felt obligated to remind her.
She scoffed. "I was twelve!"
"you super glued my shorts to my ass!"
the smile that teased her lips transformed her face from beautiful to breathtakingly beautiful in a matter of seconds. . .
She chuckled softly as she moved to put a little space between them. "I actually forgot about that".”
“It figured that the one man that treated her like a woman was the one that made her wish she was a man so that she could kick his ass.”
“If you fuck this up, I’m gonna have to kill you,” Rory swore, leaning in to kiss him.
“I’m not gonna fuck this up,” he promised as he met her lips in a hungry kiss.
“I tell you what, Rory. If you're ready in an hour, I'll buy you an extra-large cup of cocoa before we go out, one before we come home and as many as you want in between." As many as she wanted?
Dear God, she was in heaven, she thought with a content little sigh before something occurred to her and when it did, her eyes narrowed dangerously on him.
"This isn't some sort of sick joke, is it?" she demanded, because really, this was hot cocoa and she didn't screw around when it came to her cocoa.”
“All that mattered was that he could look forward to aggravating the piss out of Rory each and every night.”
“I want you, Rory,” he said against her lips. “Forever.”
“I want you too, Connor,”
“You’ve got me”
“When she felt the hot creamy chocolate go down her throat and into her stomach some of the tension in her body disappeared. Three long sips later and she felt close to being able to face the day. By
the time half the cocoa was gone she was in her special place, the place where everything was fine and she could face anything including Connor and a visit from her dad. By the time she finished the rest of the cocoa she'd be able to keep this calm going for the rest of the day, but of course she needed a second cup.”
“The smile that teased her lips transformed her face from beautiful to breathtakingly beautiful in a matter of seconds. He was damn thankful that she didn't know the effect that had on him or she'd do it to bring him to his knees and god help him, but he'd love every fucking second of it.”
“None of them, not even what he suspected should have been little boys, were small. He’d always thought that the James boys were freakishly large, but the men that were beating the shit out of each other over food had been much, much bigger. Most every single one of them had been shirtless and all had been buff, making him feel scrawny and making him wonder if Rory thought he was scrawny.”
“Pick me up at eight," she said, moving to walk away so that she could go kick something.
"Seven, and wear something sexy, sweetheart," Connor said with that damn cocky tone that was going to get him bitch slapped.”
“As long as you remember that I hate you," Rory mumbled against his lips.
"I'll remember," he promised.
"And you hate me," she reminded him as she continued to caress his lips with light, teasing kisses that had his arms tightening around her and his body trembling with the need to consume her.
"With a passion.”
“Her father might think that she was weaker than the boys, but that didn't mean that she had to go and prove him right.”
“It was bad enough that she'd made a deal with the devil and was apparently addicted to his kisses, but now she had her brothers going behind her back and orchestrating something that couldn't possibly end well for her.”
“You shouldn't be stripping in front of your employees. What if he sues?” he demanded, barely reigning in his temper when all he wanted to do was throttle the woman for covering up. “I would never sue!” her secretary yelled from behind the door. “I'm willing to sign a waiver!”
“We are not told, or not told early enough so that it sinks in, that mathematics is a language, and that we can learn it like any other, including our own. We have to learn our own language twice, first when we learn to speak it, second when we learn to read it. Fortunately, mathematics has to be learned only once, since it is almost wholly a written language.”
“All that hitchhikin
All that railroadin
All that comin back
“No sooner had he finished with a case than another two or three appeared in its place. What was the name of that creature? The Hydra, was it? That was what he was fighting. Every time he cut off a head, more popped into his in-tray. Coming back from a holiday was a nightmare. And now they were giving him rocks to push up hills as well.”
“In my life long study of human beings, I have found that no matter how hard they try, they have found no way yet to prevent the arrival of Monday morning. And they do try, of course, but Monday always comes, and all the drones have to scuttle back to their dreary workday lives of meaningless toin and suffering.”
“Archimedes will be remembered when Aeschylus is forgotten, because languages die and mathematical ideas do not. ‘Immortality’ may be a silly word, but probably a mathematician has the best chance of whatever it may mean. G.H. Hardy 23”
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